


Ugly Mustard Yellow

by Jackalope_303 (Genius_626)



Category: Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: Sorry Not Sorry, obligatory sick fic, the flu of some kind nothing serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24495046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genius_626/pseuds/Jackalope_303
Summary: It was Friday afternoon, and Elle hadn’t heard from Emmett all day.
Relationships: Emmett Forrest/Elle Woods
Comments: 5
Kudos: 117
Collections: legally blonde





	Ugly Mustard Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> I watch this musical at least once or twice a year, it's definitely one of the things I come back to again and again for comfort. 
> 
> I've been reading all the fanfic and came up with some ideas myself. Enjoy :))

It was Friday afternoon, and Elle hadn’t heard from Emmett all day.

She’d already texted twice before her morning class. After a few hours and no reply, she'd made a few calls, but they all went to voicemail. She knew that Emmett wasn’t a big fan of cell phones in general, but after they’d started dating a year and a half ago, he hardly ever missed her calls or ignored her texts.

He wasn’t even at work today, and he only had one evening tutoring session on Fridays. She knew there was probably nothing to worry about...

But she was a little worried.

After a planned lunch with Paulette, she drove straight to Emmett’s apartment building. The building itself was old as dirt, and it looked like dirt, and sometimes, it smelled like dirt. She wasn’t technically supposed to have a key to the main gate, but Emmett had made her a copy anyway, more or less for emergencies. She rarely used it, so she kept it in the tiny hidden inside pocket of her purse for safekeeping.

Entering the building, she didn’t even look at the rickety elevator, making her way to the stairwell instead. Emmett had told her once that he'd gotten stuck in that elevator for _six_ _hours_. It also looked haunted, so she wasn’t taking any chances.

Elle loved her boyfriend, but she hated his apartment. The sun hit his window in the morning, making the studio uncomfortably muggy in the summer. The kitchenette only had enough room for a mini-fridge, and the bathroom was so small that the door had to be shoved past the edge of the toilet bowl every time you shut the door. He didn’t even have a closet, he hung up his nice suit on a _coatrack_.

But the worst thing about this complex by far was the _carpeting_.

Her hot pink sneakers clashed horribly with the ugly mustard yellow carpeting. The place looked like it hadn’t been renovated, let alone cleaned, since the 70s. There were a few suspicious stains in the carpet that totally convinced Elle that multiple murders had occurred here.

When she reached Emmett’s door, she already had the key in her hand. The lock was old and slightly jammed, but she felt it click open and immediately let herself in.

The studio was dark, save for the sunlight peeking through the broken slats of the window blinds.

“Emmett?” She gently called.

A faint groan came from the back of the room. Tentatively, she felt around for the kitchenette light and flicked it on. The fluorescent bulbs shed light into the dingy, barely decorated apartment. Now she could see an Emmett-shaped lump under the covers in his bed, and then she heard coughing. 

Elle shut the door and dropped her bag. In the two years she’d known Emmett, never once had she seen him get sick.

 _I guess he’s human after all_ , she thought to herself.

She went to his bedside and noted the surrounding mess. There was a box of NyQuil on the nightstand next to a near-empty glass of water and a box of tissues. There was a wastebasket nearby, but the tissues hadn't all landed on target and were strewn along the floor.

“Elle?”

Emmett poked his head out from the covers, messy hair strewn all over his pillow. The bags under his eyes looked heavier than normal.

“Hey, babe.” She said. “You weren’t answering your phone, and no one saw you on campus, so I was worried.”

“M’ sorry.” He said, sounding horribly congested. “I must have slept through your call.”

Elle frowned, shaking her head. “No, I’m sorry, I had no idea you were trying to sleep!”

“No, don’t be, I need to get up, anyway.” He said, sitting up and throwing off the covers. “I have a few emails to make, some meetings to set up for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Elle echoed. “Excuse me, you’re not going anywhere tomorrow.”

The sudden sternness in her voice made him look up curiously at her.

“I can’t just skip work.” He said.

“You’re not _skipping_. You’re _calling in sick_.”

Emmett waved her off, a grave mistake he would soon realize.

“I’ll be fine tomorrow.” He said as he pushed himself up from the bed.

Elle didn’t miss the way he winced at the ache in his muscles. Without hesitation, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back down, which he wasn’t, at the moment, strong enough to resist.

“You. Are not. Leaving. This apartment.” She said pointedly. “For at least 48 hours.”

His brow furrowed. “48 hours?!”

Elle ignored him, going for the desk to close his laptop and stuff it in its case. 

Emmett tried to stand again. “No offense, honey, but have you ever taken care of a sick person before?”

Elle gave him a sudden, dramatic side-eye, which apparently struck Emmett directly in the funny bone. A giggle rose up in his throat before rather quickly devolving into a coughing fit. He sat back down onto the bed and tried not to cough in Elle's direction. 

Elle turned fully towards him, her expression softened to a sympathetic smile. She had to restrain herself from saying _poor_ _baby_ out loud.

“Sorry, Em.” She said, grabbing the empty glass on the bedside table and retreating to the kitchen to fill it up.

“I can make you some herbal tea with honey for your throat.” She said as she rummaged through the cramped kitchenette. “I know I left some here last time I slept over, you coffee drinkers are all the same, never thinking ahead for when you might _need_ some tea. And if you haven’t eaten today, you should try something small. You know, the traditional home remedy for the common cold is chicken soup, but I’ve always liked bananas and oatmeal. I wonder when you caught whatever virus this is, you seemed fine yesterday and the day before…”

Emmett simply listening to Elle’s steady, verbal stream of consciousness. Given how foggy his entire brain felt, it was all he could do to focus on her voice.

When she came back with a full glass of water, she held it out to him.

“Drink all of it.”

Emmett took the glass and complied, drinking about a quarter of it before coming back up for air.

“I should’ve known.” He said flatly.

“What?” Elle asked.

Emmett glanced up at her, a look in his eyes that never failed to make Elle's heart pound a little. When he looked at her like that, it was hard to ignore his adoration. 

“That you’re _perfect_." He said, exasperated and raspy. "Why do you always have to be right?” 

She rolled her eyes and sat next to him on the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap. She wanted to hug him, but she could feel how warm her was just from feeling the bedding he'd been sleeping in. 

“I’m _not_ perfect.” She shrugged. “The Delta Nu house was big, and when one of us was sick, we _all_ got it eventually. I think I learned a thing or two.”

Emmett smiled over the rim of his glass. When he was finished with it, he set it down where it’d been on the table.

“You really don’t have to take care of me.” He said. “For the most part, I grew up taking care of myself. And look, here I am, still alive.”

Emmett meant the last part as a joke, and Elle did smile, but her eyes betrayed her concern.

“It’s not about surviving a cold.” She said. “You’ll survive without me, obviously. But I’d be miserable knowing you were sick and all alone. We’re _together_ now, and I want to be here.” Elle reached for his hand, gently rubbing her thumb over his boney knuckles. “I wish you’d called me.”

Emmett felt a lump in his throat. He really hadn’t thought to call her. When he woke up sick, he'd looked through his schedule--realized he could postpone grocery shopping and postpone tutoring for another day--and went straight back to sleep. He didn’t realize Elle would come looking for him. And he hadn’t even thought of eating today.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “…I don’t usually ask for help when I’m sick.”

Her hand was cool to the touch, her thumb now drawing circles on his warm skin.

“That’s ok,” Elle said, perking up a bit. “Hopefully next time, you won’t have to call me, I’ll just _be_ here.”

She got to her feet and went back to the kitchen, searching through his sorry excuse for a pantry.

“Wait.” Emmett said. “Are you saying…”

“That we should move in together?” She said over her shoulder. “Very much so, yes. I mean, think about it. Rounding up, we’ve been together for two years. I would love to have a bathroom I didn’t have to share with ten other girls, and your current apartment complex should've been demolished ten years ago.”

Emmett smiled at her logic. “Well then, we’ll be sure to find a place without any ugly mustard yellow carpeting.”

Elle looked back at him with such a sunny smile that Emmett thought it might melt him. She came back to him and placed her cool hands on either side of his jaw. 

"I could kiss you, Emmett Forrest, but I shouldn't." She said. "You better get well, soon."


End file.
